Two Poems

Claudia M. Reder

The Collector

My father collects bird beaks.
They rattle and jab me.
I am afraid to look inside
the sack, hearing them mewling
like newly formed bats
who could like my father, snap, trill, hoot,
howl, bore holes into trees.

I walk out onto the earth’s
spongy tongue, its fragrant
breath of weeds and rot,
expectant; listening for crickets,
leaves that tremor with bird droppings.

Dreamless nights I drive without stopping
for street lights, wanting to wipe
his name from the list of ghosts
who stop by every so often.


***


Sometimes Truth

Sometimes truth arrives
unexpectedly,
   a grungy, flea ridden, donkey
heartbroken with hunger.

He lowers his head into
    the wide-mouthed cup
        sucking lustily,
    his lean skull gleams
    through
    his wrecked hide
    a sliver of moon
    nips a jagged
    hoof.

I arrive home in time to shelter him
with a thermal blanket.
    Unscripted memories light
    on my finger
    as my key slides into the
    front door.

Claudia M. Reder’s poetry manuscript Uncertain Earth was a finalist in the Crab Orchard Review Poetry Series Competition. Her first book, My Father and Miro and Other Poems (Bright Hill Press, 2001), was selected by Colette Inez. The title poem won the Crossing Boundaries Award from International Quarterly. A poem received first prize in the Charlotte Newberger Poetry Prize from Lilith Magazine, selected by Alicia Ostriker. She teaches at California State University Channel Islands.


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